


Celandine's Trials

by odilemoon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Breaking Celibacy Vows, Dubious Consent, Dungeons & Dragons References, F/F, Femdom, Forced Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, High Fantasy, Lesbian Sex, Magic-Users, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sex Magic, Strap-Ons, so much femdom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:14:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odilemoon/pseuds/odilemoon
Summary: The Countess of Starfordia, a depraved succubus, terrorizes the countryside as she drains the vitality from sacrifices with her voracious carnal appetite. When Celandine's friend-with-benefits is selected as the Countess's next servant, Celandine volunteers in her place. A priestess-in-training, Celandine loves to submit to the will of her gods... and to play exquisitely painful games of dominance and submission. She's confident that her faith and her sensual nature will enable her to perform whatever tasks are expected of her.Taken to an enchanted castle, Celandine meets the Countess's captured pets: Tikara, a brave knight trapped in a permanent state of desire, and Wraith, a darkly beautiful warlock suffering under a mysterious curse. Even as Celandine challenges herself to endure humiliating torments at the Countess's hands, she finds unexpected love with her fellow prisoners. Only by working together will Celandine, Tikara, and Wraith be able to break the Countess's sensual spells.(Complete, updated regularly)
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Female Character/Original Female Character, priestess/lady knight/mage, succubus/everyone
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is a pretty old work, i think it still holds up though

Through her window, Celandine could see the sun shining merrily over green fields and rolling hills, but she was only three chapters into New Interpretations of the Goddess’s Great Speech.

“Celandine, my dear friend. How long will you remain at your books? Don't you know it's a beautiful day outside... and you could be spending it with a beautiful woman?” With her short dark curls and acrobat’s figure, Ria looked like a little pixie- and she could be just as mischievous. She tried to place her breasts on Celandine’s shoulder, but they were too small.  
“The goddess commands those who are hers to read her words every day.” Celandine replied calmly.  
“Yes, yes. Except you're not the goddess's lover, you're her priestess.”  
Celandine turned a page. “Is there really a difference?”  
“Today there is. Because a deity can't take you outside to feel the warm sunlight on your bare breasts. And you can't punish a deity for distracting you from your studies, can you?” She entangled her fingers in Celandine’s long, magpie-dark hair.  
“Do you want to be punished?” Celandine teased.  
“If you're doing the punishing.”  
Nodding, she closed her book and placed it back on the stack. “Pick what you want to be punished with, get the picnic blanket- and pour me some tea, perhaps. I’ll meet you outside when I’ve finished reading through my notes.”  
  
Celandine's cottage was exactly equidistant between the two main villages, but off the main road, hidden by lush, rolling hills. They could be unashamedly naked in the open air.   
Celandine finished spreading the blanket out on the lush wildflower-strewn grass and cast an appreciative gaze over her best friend's body. Ria, never able to sit still, squirmed with anticipation. Like Celandine, she had tan-golden skin and dark hair; but while Celandine's long ringlets tumbled over her full breasts, hers were cropped above shoulder-length to highlight her delicate features.

“So,” Celandine said with an idle grin, swinging the paddle Ria had chosen by its strap. “Promise once you’ve been thoroughly chastised, you’ll let me read?”

“Oh, yes,” Ria replied, wide-eyed. She leaned back with her legs spread, toes curling and flexing.

Not bothering with preamble, Celandine swatted her right on her glistening cunt. Ria’s body jerked as she struggled to contain the noises spilling from her mouth. Needing to assuage her own burning desire, Celandine fondled her tits as she kept up a steady rhythm of swats on the now whimpering girl.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Celandine asked teasingly, leaning down to kiss Ria’s smooth stomach.

“Yes,” Ria managed breathlessly. “Will you fuck me? Please? I’ll be good, I promise- wait, Celandine, do you hear footsteps?”  
  


“Excuse me,” a voice called from behind the trees. “This is the cottage of the priestess Celandine Lyn, is it not?”

“Yes,” Celandine called back. She tugged her dress over her head and hastily pulled back her curls, Ria doing the same; they shoved their discarded underclothes beneath the picnic blanket.  
“Is Elanaria here?”  
“Yes,” Ria said, trepidation in her voice.   
Celandine bit her full lower lip. No one in the village ever used spunky little Ria's real name- not unless she was in serious trouble. “Ria, what did you do? Please tell me you didn’t egg the blacksmith’s again.”  
Tears glittered in her dark eyes. “I don't know,” she said faintly.  
  
“Are you both decent? I'd like to tell you this in person, not shouting from behind a tree.”

“We are.”

Celandine recognized the woman who sprinted down the hill towards them as Maritza, a milkmaid from the village; last spring, she’d said healing blessings over one of Maritza’s cows.  
  
“Elanaria Valorine,” Maritza said haltingly, twisting a length of yellow hair ribbon in her trembling hands. “Due to her previous servant being found unsatisfactory... the Countess Forsaken has called you to her service. She wishes you to proceed to Castle Bleak at once.”  
Ria's scream of horror pierced the air. She curled into a tiny ball and began to weep.  
“I'm sorry,” Maritza whispered to Celandine. “But someone had to tell her.”  
“I'm not angry at you,” Celandine reassured her. “It's that gods-damned countess... stealing the loveliest maidens of our village and giving them back with all the life and beauty sucked away.”

Lively young women who’d been the first to dance at a village party or the fastest quilters had been coming home with listless expressions and dark circles under their eyes. Celandine hated it.  
“I don't want to be a shell,” Ria whispered, curling up against her. “I don't want to lose the ability to enjoy my life... to enjoy sex...”  
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Maritza asked, wringing her hands.  
  
“Maritza, go into my cottage and make her some tea. Half a teaspoon of the dried lavender, two teaspoons of honey.”  
“And you? What will you do?” Maritza asked as she bundled the catatonic Ria to her feet.  
There was only one thing she could do in such a bleak situation. "I'm going to pray."

Some people thought the voice of the gods would be like booming thunder, like a tree that burned and blossomed all at once. But for Celandine, the goddess had always been a still, small voice in the back of her mind. Like her conscience, only clearer.

She knelt atop the picnic blanket, her palms turned up to the sunlight, and let her eyelids flutter clothes. Listening to her breathing, she would hear that voice inside her.

When it came, it left no doubt about what she needed to do.


	2. Chapter 2

"It'll be all right," Maritza was saying as Celandine walked into the cottage. "She never keeps women long, and at least you'll still be alive."

"Don't worry, Ria. I have a plan. You'll face no danger." Celandine told her.

"What is it? Please tell me the Goddess is going to smite that woman!"

"The Goddess has suggested I go in your place."

With a gasp, Ria flung herself at Celandine and caught her in a hug.

"I won't get caught," Celandine continued, gently stroking her soft hair. "After all, everyone says we look a lot alike, except that I'm taller and plumper."

Ria pulled back to gaze into her face. "But you'll be in horrible peril. When you come back, will you still be my Celandine? Who reads poetry and tells me I ought to wear a coat when it's raining? I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

 _I hope so_ , Celandine thought. Sex had always been something sacred and beautiful to her, especially when it had an element of danger and pain, for that was what made her feel divinely powerful. "It's the will of the Goddess to decide." That sounded better than _I'm sacrificing myself_.

"Please, let me go with you. Just in case you change your mind." Ria begged as Celandine and Maritza started for the village. "It isn't fair that you should have to sacrifice yourself."

"And if I don't? You do realize that the Goddess has spoken to me... that it's her will to save you."

Ria entwined her fingers through Celandine's. "Then we have the whole long carriage ride to say goodbye."

The ornate carriage was waiting for them at the village, decorated with the Countess's coat of arms with its eagles and whips.

"I wish I could hold onto your forever," Ria said as Celandine kissed her tears. "You're my best friend, I don't want you to go… oh." This last, an exhalation of surprised pleasure, as Celandine gently parted her legs.

"Remember this, promise- remember me just like this," Celandine said, brushing the other girl's short hair away from her face as she encouraged Ria to ride her thigh with the gentle rocking motion of the carriage. "Trust me, darling. I'll be back before you know it, and I'll be perfectly fine."

Ria didn't seem entirely convinced, but she still smiled when she came.

"We're here," Celandine said after a while. "Let's be decent, I suppose. The Countess likes her servants properly clothed… at least at first."

Celandine had been dressed for the past few miles, admiring Ria's unclothed beauty; now Ria threw herself onto Celandine's skirts. "Promise you'll do everything to be safe—promise you'll try to come home. I've heard awful things about that Countess and what she makes young women do."

With a final word of assurance, Celandine stepped out of the carriage.

Ria could never have borne what was asked of her, but Celandine could take it all and ask for more. Her darkest, most secret fantasies were about to be brought to life.

The stone structure, with its many towers and sharply pointed spires, loomed over her. As she walked up the path, wind whistling in the distance, she felt swallowed by its shadow. It reminded her of the great cathedrals she'd seen in postcards.

"I am the Countess's chatelaine," a dour woman with tightly braided hair said, looking Celandine up and down as if she ought to be ashamed of herself. She ushered Celandine down long hallways and up winding staircases, and finally into an expansive room.

Lurid stained glass windows depicted images of naked women being chained and scourged, or eating each other's cunts in long snaking lines.

"Go on in," said the chatelaine, "The Countess is expecting you," and closed the heavy oaken doors behind her with a resounding thud.

Then, at the end of the room, she saw the Countess.

"Well, well, well." Her full red lips quirked in an elegant smile. "So you are my new servant. Come here, into the light. Let me see your pretty face."

Celandine's footsteps were loud on the red velvet carpet that ran up the center of the passageway, and subsequently louder on the stone floor after the carpet ended. Her heart pounded as she approached the golden throne and the exquisite woman lounging there.

Rationally, she knew the Countess was evil. But in that moment Celandine wanted her regardless.

She had never seen anyone wearing so many cosmetics. The Countess had plum-dark glistening lips and cheekbones as high as an elf's. Her eyelids were painted with the black shimmer of crow feathers. And that low-cut silken dress, embellished with garnets and amethysts, hugged her every womanly curve. The seductive unfamiliarity aroused her.

"Welcome, young Celandine," the Countess purred. "I am pleased you've chosen to enter into my domain. The invitation was always meant for you, after all."

It took a moment for her to remember she was supposed to be Ria, and then she stuttered in surprise: "I- I'm not—"

The Countess's laugh was like a mirror shattering; musical, yet somehow sharp and jagged. Celandine couldn't help looking at the splendid abundance of creamy cleavage as the Countess's chest moved with her laughter. "Oh, fear not. From the start, I intended to lure you here. You're much more of a prize than your little friend. For instance, you want to touch me, don't you? You want me to touch you all over."

Celandine bit her lip; she'd always been a terrible liar.

The Countess rose in a whisper of silk and stroked Celandine's face. Her hands were cold as marble, and when Celandine's lips parted in surprise, she trailed caresses there, too. Celandine had expected to be murdered, tortured, treated cruelly—but this was a veritable seduction. "I can tell you'll be a very interesting little game, Celandine. You and your faith and your experience will avail you little compared to my demonic heritage and gifts of enchantment… as a succubus, I've never met a more overconfident mortal."

"I try to be interesting," Celandine replied, trying to stay calm. Succubi had great magical power, and the Countess could be capable of anything. Her body was responding to this woman's touches, making indecent suggestions in the back of her mind. "And I try to have faith—"

Without warning, she was pulled tightly against the other woman's body and kissed with merciless passion. She felt teased and exposed as the Countess explored every inch of her mouth, fondling her all over.

 _Well, odder things have happened,_ Celandine thought. She'd done more with women she'd known for less time. At least she knew the Countess's name. But trying to kiss back only got her punished as the Countess's teeth dug into her lower lip, a thigh slotting between her legs, and she moaned at the exquisite pain.

The Countess laughed as she pulled away. "You're very easy to arouse, aren't you?"

Was that a compliment or an insult? Touching her kiss-swollen lips, Celandine decided to be polite. "I've been told that."

"Yes, well, so are my pets. Come into my receiving room."

The Countess snapped her fingers and a section of the wall slid back. When she swept through the doorway, Celandine followed.


	3. Chapter 3

"Wraith, Tikara, this is Celandine. From what I know of her, I think she's come here to match wits with me—a foolish but admirable goal," the Countess said. "A mortal thinking she can withstand the power of a succubus… quite amusing indeed."

One woman was seated on a red velvet settee, reading a book. Her appearance had evidently been altered by the long use of magic—silver hair, cat-golden eyes. Another was standing by the window. She had short, tousled blonde hair and a sturdy, muscular body.

"Do you want her, Tikara? Do you want my new servant to touch you?" the Countess asked the blonde woman.

"Yes," Tikara said at once, as if it meant, _obviously_.

"So is that because you specifically find our guest attractive, or because you're a little slut who's never been satisfied for more than a moment in her entire life? I always like it when you're honest with me."

Although her hair was light, Tikara had long, dark eyelashes, and they cast beautiful shadows when her eyes were shyly downcast. "You're lovely, Celandine Lyn. I bet you still smell like the village you came from. The apple blossoms and the fresh water… and I think a woman like you, who knows something of the world, would know how much a strong knight can bear."

Celandine found the rough burr of her provincial accent adorable. She wanted to know what it sounded like when she moaned.

Scowling, the Countess shook her head. "I don't want her to hurt you. That would satisfy you too much. I want her to tease you… gently and lightly." She pointed to a nearby chair and clicked her fingers. "Up."

With the ease of long practice, Tikara bounced up and spread her legs over the armrests, effortlessly flexible. The light hair at her cunt was trimmed short into delicate downy fluff, and she whimpered when Celandine touched her there.

"Does this feel good?"

"Yeah."

Celandine understood that the Countess was not like other people. That to step into her castle was to enter a strange, mysterious world. But she hadn't known how strange.

"Give her orders, Wraith. Show me how well you know my other pet."

The woman who'd been reading rose. Tall and androgynous, she wore a long black coat painted with silver runes, with a cape to match. Gliding across the room, she knelt at the Countess's side with uncanny grace. "As you wish, my lady."

The Countess casually tousled her hair as if petting a dog. "This is Wraith, my wizard… my toy, really. So chaste and pure and devoted to her books."

Wraith bit her lip, stirring slightly. When the Countess squeezed her breasts through the layers of fabric, she gasped, eyelids fluttering shut. "You should…"

"Yes?" the Countess prompted.

"She comes fastest with something inside her. Little circles on her clit."

Tikara's attention was fully trained on Celandine, who slipped a finger inside to test her wetness, then did as Wraith had suggested; tiny circles, figure-eights, a few phrases from prayers that slipped into her head. All the while Tikara was squirming desperately, trying to gain more friction. _It's all right_ , Celandine wanted to say, _I'll take care of you, sweet strong girl_. But she wasn't allowed to give Tikara an orgasm, or slip a hand into her skirts and rub herself.

"Stop," Wraith said hoarsely, just as the Countess had her coat all the way unbuttoned, revealing petite breasts with dusky nipples.

At once, Celandine pulled back; Tikara whimpered and tried to hump the air.

The Countess came over and idly inspected Tikara's cunt. "You're wet, aren't you? Typical."

Tikara just nodded, seeming unsure of how to reply.

"Good. Wraith, put Tikara back in the dungeon; she hasn't quite earned my forgiveness yet. Then come to my room, and perhaps I'll let you serve me… or maybe I'll just tease you some more."

Wraith stood and bowed in answer, tension evident in every line of her slender yet powerful body, and helped Tikara up. Celandine frowned as she watched the pair leave.

No good top left their sub chained to a dungeon wall, or denied her food. Sure, you could whip someone until they bled and begged, hold their head underwater until their tears mingled with the river's current, wrap your hands around their throat and smile like a wolf.

But you were doing those things to a human being. And the Countess's heart had clearly been abandoned by all the gods of good, because she saw these people as her property in truth.

Celandine spent the rest of the afternoon and evening learning her duties. She was to dress and undress the Countess each morning, prepare her baths—"but not the special ones," the Countess added cryptically—as well as disposing of "certain objects." She could also organize the library, although she probably wouldn't be there long enough to make use of it. Finally, she wasn't allowed to wear underwear, and she could ask the Countess or any of her pets for an orgasm, but not pleasure herself.

Afterwards, she helped the chatelaine prepare the Countess's evening salad, face mask, and hand cream.


	4. Chapter 4

That night, Celandine lay in an uncomfortably huge four-poster bed, confused and aroused.

Then a noise split the still, dusty air. "Fuck this shit- fuck my piece-of-shit body- fuck you in particular, knees…"

Snatching the heavy candlestick from her dresser, she peered out into the darkened hallway. The echoes of soft weeping disturbed the spiderwebs. Stone tiles chilled her bare feet as she crept forward, following the sounds. As she got closer, she could feel the electric charge of magic in the air. An open door at the end of a hallway: Wraith, sprawled out miserably on a four-poster bed piled high with red silk and black velvet. It reminded her of melodramas in the theatre: yes, I'm deathly ill, but also look how much dignity and drama there is in my suffering!

"Wraith? Are you all right?"

A long sigh. At last she replied, deadpan, "Does it look like I'm all right? I think I seem perfectly fine." She tried to shift into a more comfortable position on her pile of crimson pillows, but the movement made her wince.

Overcome with sympathy, Celandine perched at the bed's edge. "Is there anything I could do to help? A healing prayer, perhaps—"

"No," Wraith said at once. "Part of it is pain I was born with. My joints are fucked; sometimes I dislocate my wrists just by lifting a spellbook that's too heavy. And then there's my magic. It's a long story and I'm tired. Even though I can't sleep… I'd rather not go into details. Basically, though, some spells I made are all tangled up with the Countess's succubus curses, with the way she edges everyone under her power. My head's much clearer than Tikara's, but I hurt." She sounded pitiful, vulnerable, in her exhausted grumpiness.

"It isn't fair that you should be made to suffer. Isn't there anything that could ease your pain, if only for a moment?"

Her voice was soft, disheveled exhaustion an undercurrent under the casual lounging. But there was no mistaking the promise in her smirk. "The warmth of your body if you laid beside me."

"Even if it wouldn't help, I'd want you to touch me. You're beautiful." She wanted to touch Wraith's silver waves, but stopped herself. There was something dangerous about the gesture, like petting a wild stag when its horns were right there.

Wraith caught Celandine's wrist, dragged the back of her hand along her hair. It was warm and silken; she caught the scent of sandalwood. "I've been told so, yes."

"I've never done anything with a wizard before…" Celandine replied. Blushing, she retrieved her hand.

"Then I hope I meet your expectations." Wraith's gaze was focused on Celandine with an all-encompassing intensity.

Celandine undressed slowly, loosening her hair. She wanted to put on a private show, so she lingered over each button of her white cotton nightgown, shifting the fabric so that it clung to her curves. "If you'd like, I'll pray for you as well. Ask the Goddess to send you sweet dreams and quiet your suffering." 

Wraith chuckled, a soft yet intimidating sound. "You, a white-robed innocent of a maiden deity? You would darken your soul with remembrances for a depraved sinner like me?"

Celandine finished unbuttoning her nightgown, and the shimmering pale fabric puddled around her curvaceous body. "The third book of the goddess's speeches says that it is our actions in the present that define the nature of our soul. That anyone who truly seeks repentance will be granted it."

Wraith caught a single one of Celandine's dark curls and tugged it straight, a steady pull. With a wince of effort, she sat all the way up. Her pale golden eyes held Celandine like an eagle's talons around a mouse. "I wonder, sweet Celandine, sweet maiden: who would you have me seek repentance from? Your gods… or you? Do you want me on my knees before you, worshipping at the unsullied hem of your gown? Humbling my tainted self before your chastity? Kissing the ground upon which you walk?"

She had drawn closer and closer. The infuriating slash of her mouth was near enough to kiss. But before Celandine could gather herself to make a move, she smirked with derision and drew back.

"So, what do you like better? Getting fucked or having your clit rubbed; or do you want me to play with your tits?" There was a strange contrast between the mage's self-contained demeanor and the filth she said so casually.

"I'd like to be fucked, please." As she said it, Celandine couldn't help but wonder how Wraith would do it if she didn't plan on moving from her lounging position against the stack of pillows.

"All right," Wraith replied. When she turned her hand, the shadows solidified around her.

"What's that?"

"Shadow Hand. A beginner's spell for any aspiring dark mage… with some modifications to make it more dexterous." She actually winked.

Dexterous was an understatement. Not even a tongue could move so precisely. The magnificently wet tentacles squirmed up and down her torso like giant tongues, then guided her legs open and began to tease her labia. Each gliding caress only increased her sensitivity.

"So let's say I wanted to learn about the deity you worship. Where would I begin?"

At the first touch to her clit, she gasped. "You're asking me about theology while you're doing this to me? Please, it feels so good… I can't really concentrate."

"You have a duty to educate those who wish to be faithful, don't you? Educate me." She looked so casual, lying back against the pillows, her long fingers stirring as she worked the spell with a concentration and precision that made Celandine ache.

Celandine dragged her nails down her thighs, using the pain as an anchor until she could string together a coherent sentence. "Something you need to know… is that the gods actually appreciate pleasure. Especially the goddess of light." A pair of tentacles eased inside her and turned in gentle circles, impossibly slick, impossibly wet. 

"Really? Give me an example." She leaned forward a little. There actually seemed to be genuine interest in her voice.

Celandine easily remembered a quote. "The act of breathing mirrors the act of creation. Within your body are the sacred green places of the beautiful world. Tend those gardens and know the oneness of all things."

"Wow. That's not a heresy?"

"No… it's not. It comes from the Goddess, and men tend to not know the psalms as well as they think they do. Ria and I used to spend, oh, hours upon hours in the village school discussing these words inside out. Religion should be about love, not prohibition."

She loved the way the tentacles were moving inside her, and the low curl of admiration in Wraith's next words felt as good as a caress. "You're an interesting woman, Celandine Lyn."

"You know what else is interesting? The… the words of the gods." Her words were coming breathy and fast now as she rolled her hips against the squirming shadow-tentacles. Even though she could barely put a sentence together, her mouth was carrying on automatically. "People in outlying villages, people who've had false interpretations stamped into them by false priests? They always act so shocked when I tell them the gods…"

"They fucked," Wraith suggested eagerly, like a student who'd been the first to come up with a correct answer.

"Made love. The lightning striking the earth again and again as the storm lashes down… the sun kissing the horizon as it seems to penetrate a shimmering lake. Everything is sacred. This is sacred." As if encouraged by her words, the tentacle inside her swelled. Celandine shoved her hands against her mouth and bit down to muffle her cries as it lashed against her sensitive inner walls, circling and wet. The undulation seemed to continue eternally, wringing spasm after spasm from her cunt, until the lingering pleasure exhausted her. Slowly, the tentacles withdrew, leaving wet trails across her legs.

When she finally opened her eyes, Wraith was regarding her with a strange solemnity.

"What?" Celandine whispered, wondering if maybe Wraith wanted to kiss her. She would yield so eagerly. Anything for a chance to disturb that cool composure.

"I wish I'd had a priest like you before…" Her quiet tone was almost vulnerable.

"Before what?"

"Never mind." Already Wraith's expression was hard and grim, her gaze far away. Celandine despised the shadows under her eyes, her hollow cheeks. She looked even less human when she smiled. "Go to bed, Celandine. You harbor fantasies of saving me, don't you? Unshackling poor Tikara from her curse. The sooner you abandon them, the better. Little cleric, little white-robed ray of sunshine… hope will devour you alive." Her chuckle was full of secrets and spite.

The shadows deepened around her as a spectral wind stirred her quicksilver hair. With a gesture, handcuffs rattled out from under the bed. They clicked shut around Wraith's thin wrists, and she tugged at them to make sure they held. It seemed like a ritual born of long practice.

"Are you… chaining yourself?"

It was a stupid question. Of course she was—but why?

Instead of a direct reply, Wraith only smirked. Already the weakened, bitter woman of earlier, the one who needed her gentleness, seemed like a fantasy. Even cuffed to her own bed, she was dangerous.

"Don't worry. They're enchanted." As Celandine watched, the chains faded, leaving only the bracelets. "The chains will only activate if I'm sure I need them."

Celandine didn't understand, but she nodded anyway.

"Goodnight, Celandine Lyn. Pray that you die before you wake, for no gods would dare come here to save your soul."

 _What does that even mean?_ Celandine wanted to ask, but Wraith closed her eyes, and the shadows swarmed over her like a blanket. It was clear she'd get no answers from the mage tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Celandine tidied up for a few hours. Although the chatelaine did most of the tasks, she couldn't handle everything. Washing dishes without a brassiere or undergarments on felt very strange. Every time she moved, she could feel how wet she was. How her bare thighs caressed each other when she shifted; how, if someone had happened upon her right now, no one would know that she wore nothing under the white cotton gown with an embroidered belt and shirred bodice that had been set out for her. As the faucet's flow cascaded in rippling rivulets over the delicate gold-edged mugs, she could consider nothing else.

Two of the bells on a board rang gently. Celandine checked the labels; CELANDINE and BATHING, which meant she was supposed to go to the Countess's bathing chamber. The labyrinthine staircases seemed different every journey, but luckily she only got lost twice. 

In the chamber, a pink marble tub, slightly raised, was lit by curly copper lanterns.

"Ah, Celandine. I'm so glad you can obey orders... that you've decided to join me promptly. Tell me, how do I look?"

The liquid in the tub was not water; though clear, it shone with a strange rainbow iridescence. That same film of swirling color clung to the Countess's every curve as she stood naked and proud before Celandine.

Celandine tried not to feel ashamed of her own short, ordinary body and perpetually tangled curls. "Exquisite, my lady," she answered, for anything else would be a lie.

The Countess smirked, drawing her own hands down her dripping-wet curves. She had absolutely no body hair. Celandine couldn't help but marvel at her sheer nakedness, how revealed and exposed her cunt seemed as a result. "You want to touch me, don't you?"

"...Yes," she admitted. She was drawn to the Countess's impossible beauty like a moth to a flame. Whatever the Countess asked of her, no matter how degrading, she wanted to give. Wanted to know what she could endure.

"Then kneel for me."

Celandine collapsed to her knees on the ornately woven thick-piled rug.

"What an obedient maiden you are," the Countess said with a smirk. "Open your mouth."

When the Countess proffered a hand like a goddess offering benediction, Celandine hardly needed to be instructed twice; she closed her lips around the offered digit and suckled diligently. An unexpected mingling of tastes swirled in concert through her mouth-

Raw honey straight from the comb on a hot summer day with the smell of fresh-cut grass in the fields.

Blueberries in lavender sauce, topped with fresh cream.

And the taste of strawberry jam from her best friend's mouth, licked off as part of their farewells...

Celandine pulled back with a gasp. She felt full of energy, like she could sprint ten miles—or have sex with ten women. "What is that?" she managed. "What did I just taste?"

"The life energy of a young woman from a nearby village. Her name was... what was it?"

"Larkin, milady," replied the chatelaine, who'd been quietly folding discarded clothes in the corner; Celandine had been too distracted to notice her arrival.

"Yes. Trapped in an arranged marriage with a village boy who clumsily pawed at her day and night, she was hopelessly frustrated. She came to me to satisfy her lusts, thinking she could keep up with my legendary sexual appetite. I drained her dry. The fluid I bathe in now is the essence of her life. Isn't that right, my chatelaine?"

"Yes, milady."

The countess frowned down at the swirling pastel rainbows that filled the bath. "Hmm... this batch is beginning to lose its potency. Clean me."

Her chatelaine scrambled to wipe her with a fluffy towel, incurring a frown.

"Not with a towel, you idiot... use your tongue. Lick me clean. Lick me clean here."

The chatelaine beamed and dropped to her knees. Immediately, she began to suck the Countess's bare-shaven cunt.

She thrusted against the flat of her servant's tongue, moaning openly. "Yes... taste her downfall, taste my desire. Let me fuck your mouth and use you like a slave."

They both looked beautiful, vibrant, flawless. And a young woman had lost her spirit and sensual capacity to make that so.

The Countess seized her chatelaine by her hair and ground against her mouth as she came, closing her eyes and moaning in ecstasy. Celandine wished she could abandon herself to pleasure and leave the world behind as well.

"Celandine, dearest," she said when she'd recovered. "Go into my chambers and get rid of my ill-fated paramour. I suspect she'll wake up and start crying shortly, and I do so very hate tearstains on my fine silk sheets."

Celandine clenched her jaw, wanting to call her out on her spite, but it was safest to say silent. The Countess looked at her expression and chuckled.

"Oh, come now, Celandine. Don't hide your opinions from me. Tell me what you truly think." She extended her hand again, and the chatelaine began to lick it clean. To her surprise, Celandine felt that cool, deft tongue moving on her innermost folds. She squirmed, biting her lip, until words suddenly sprang from her mouth: "You're a monster."

At that, the tantalizing, unbearable pleasure ceased.

" A monster? Perhaps," she replied with an untroubled, elegant laugh. "But I am _your_ monster, for you are my captive, and I will haunt your every dream."

Celandine had no reply. She hurried towards the Countess's suite.

Tikara met her in the hallway. "I thought you might need some help." The low-cut V-neck of her tunic, its lacing open, showed that she wore no bra; as she moved, Celandine caught flashes of rose-pink nipple.

"How did you know?" Celandine asked, grateful for her comforting presence.

"The countess always runs a bath when she's drained the life energy from a visitor."

The door to the opulent rooms creaked open. On the enormous four-poster bed, a young woman laid in a disheveled tangle of golden curls.

"Is she dead?" Celandine whispered, approaching the enormous sapphire coverlet and brushing the canopy aside for a clearer view.

"No, just unconscious. Let me—I've seen this before."

Tikara climbed onto the bed and began to rub the blond maiden's shoulders and back. Her hands were capable and strong, and Celandine wished she could be the recipient of those deliberate touches.

At last the pale woman stirred, her eyes fluttering open. "Where am I? Am I still alive? I feel so cold..." She looked around like a trapped animal.

"Yes. You'll be all right, I promise," Celandine said firmly. She didn't know if she was telling the truth, but it eased the panicked look in her wild blue eyes.

"What's your name, sweetling?" Tikara asked.

"I... my name is Larkin. Where's the Mistress? I need her to touch me, please, it aches so deeply. I don't know if I want to come or sleep or die, but I want to get warm. Or cool off. My body won't make up its mind." She squirmed, her legs opening and closing. Even that slight friction made her gasp. "Please, I'm so sensitive... I've tried touching myself, but I can't feel it."

Her desperate neediness aroused Celandine. "Do you want me to—"

"No," Tikara said solemnly. "Watch. It'll do her no good."

She skimmed a hand over the young woman's toned stomach, trailed her fingers through the soft hair of her mound, then cupped her folds. "There, sweetling. Can you feel it?"

"Feel what?" Larkin asked, forehead furrowed in confusion.

Tikara gestured. "Look down, right here."

"You're touching me, and yet I feel nothing... nothing at all..." Her moan of despair was like a death rattle as she fell limp back onto the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

They helped the unfortunate young woman to Celandine's room; Celandine stripped the top cover from the bed before helping Larkin to lay down, where she immediately fell into a worn-out doze.

"You'll get in trouble with the countess for helping a discarded plaything, you know. Would you like to be demoted from servant to captive?" Tikara said worriedly. Maybe she thought she could intimidate Celandine with her height or the way she'd suffered, but Celandine refused to back down.

"Helping her is the right thing to do," Celandine insisted, pacing. "The voice of she whom I worship is the voice of my conscience, telling me that it's a risk I ought to take—" Aware of Tikara's gaze on her, she raised her head, ready to stare back unafraid.

But Tikara was grinning. It made her look even more magnificent.

"You," she said, her low voice soft, "have the heart of a warrior."

Celandine's insides fluttered with a tentative excitement. Then Larkin moaned, and the moment was gone.

"We can't just leave her outside the gates. We have to help her," Celandine stated. "Where's Wraith? She might be able to help as well."

"Let me guess. You've got a crush?" teased Tikara, and laughed at Celandine's subsequent surprise. "Oh, I'm not jealous. Just like how you're not jealous if your goddess gets a new convert. But anyway, she's studying her spellbooks. Which is usually a euphemism for masturbation, crying, or brooding. Sometimes all three at once. I find it's best to leave her until she's done sulking—trust me, if she's in pain or needs any help, she'll let us know."

"What would you like me to do? Do you want a bath?" Celandine asked Larkin.

"I'm all sweaty, but I'm scared I'll fall asleep and drown."

"A sponge bath, then," Celandine said, and Larkin nodded.

The Countess's high, strident voice echoed down the corridor. "KNIGHT! Where are you? I want some entertainment, and my warlock is busy!"

"Good luck," Tikara murmured, gentleness in her tone. She caught Celandine's hand in her rough larger one and gave a quick, comforting squeeze before striding for the door.

Celandine filled a pitcher of cool water from the kitchen tap and mixed it with chamomile and dried lavender before hurrying back to her bedroom.

Larkin was clearly suffering, flushed with arousal. Her skin shone with sweat, and her eyes were glassy, her hips shifting against the air.

"Poor little bird," Celandine murmured. She undid Larkin's braids and carefully brushed out her curls.

"That feels good," Larkin whispered, puzzled. "After the way she ravished me, I thought everything else would feel like nothing in comparison to that overwhelming flood of joy and pain. But when you touch me? I can feel it."

"And what about this?" She dipped the sponge into the cool water mixed with herbs and swirled it over Larkin's bare breasts.

The maiden shuddered in pleasure. "I can feel that, too... it's so cool and soothing against my hot skin." Suddenly, life and color came into her face again. The shadows vanished from under her eyes, which regained the sparkle they once held. "Celandine, you must hold the power of the goddess," she said, beaming, and playfully grabbed a double fistful of her long dark hair. Celandine could feel the heat of Larkin's skin through her dress, and an answering warmth gathered low in her belly.

"Kiss me. Please!" Larkin begged.

Celandine obeyed the sincere entreaty, taking hold of Larkin's face. Their mouths met with passion as they writhed together, Larkin's thigh pressed between Celandine's legs in just the way she needed. Each tiny shift of her hips produced a shudder of pleasure, and the more she moved, the better it felt. She focused all her sexual energy on a single goal: oh goddess, let this poor maiden be healed! Pleasure spread through her body, and she gasped in bliss, tossing her curls. Beneath her, Larkin squirmed and moaned. She collapsed to the side and caught her breath.

"Wow," Larkin said. She stroked her own breasts, her own well-attended cunt. "What did you do to me? I feel... I feel incredible. Nothing in my life has ever satisfied me this deeply. I feel like I can do anything, or fuck anyone! Tell me the truth: are you a goddess in human form?"

Joy sprang up in her at Larkin's shining eyes, the excitement in her voice. Still, it was important to stay modest. "If I can work miracles, it is only through my faith."

"So your huge tits are a miracle?" Larkin asked teasingly, leaning over to press kisses to every inch of her breasts. "They're so soft and creamy... did you pray for lovely nipples?"

Celandine couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I suppose these might be the will of the goddess. It pleases her to make beautiful things, such as yourself." And she caressed Larkin's shining curls once more. "Now, do you wish to return home?"

The young woman nodded eagerly. "There's a new confidence in me. Take me to the gates of this fell, foul keep, and from there I'll wander whatever I please."

Celandine giggled and kissed her square on the mouth. "That sounds wonderful, but perhaps you should put some clothes on first."

Soon, equipped with some bread and cheese from the kitchen and one of Celandine's less embellished gowns, Larkin was sent on her way.

Celandine lingered by the gates, a smile on her lips, until Larkin had sprinted away over the horizon.


	7. Chapter 7

Tikara jogged up to Celandine, holding onto her unconfined tits to keep them from bouncing all over the place. "Sorry I took so long. Do you need help? Were you able to carry her by yourself? Often, right after the Countess drains them, they lack even the energy to lift their heads unaided..."

"She walked," Celandine replied.

"Shush," Tikara replied, shaking her head. She pushed Celandine into a stone alcove; their bodies were touching now, Tikara's full, warm breasts giving against Celandine's. "If you have accomplished what I think you have? Tell no one, not even me. For all our sakes. As far as the Countess knows, nothing can undo her spells. If that has changed, it's vital we keep her ignorant... that we keep you alive. I would never want to win my freedom by endangering yours."

 _This is what I came here for,_ Celandine realized. _Something about my faith, my purity—maybe I truly do have the power to break the Countess's seductive hold._

_And if the Goddess has given me this power? I have a duty to use it. For my sake. For Tikara's. And for Wraith's._

"I am not afraid of danger," Celandine said firmly. The stone was cold against her back, but she didn't back down.

There was the ghost of a smile on Tikara's honest, round face. "Then maybe it's the Countess who should be afraid of _you_. Wraith has been waiting for someone like you for years. I'll go get her—meet me under the willow tree by the river."

The river was enchanted, the chatelaine had mentioned, a stream that constantly circled the imposing structure's maze-like gardens. The deep current looked like it could sweep someone away. Celandine parted the curtains of leaves and branches and waited by the trunk. It wasn't long before Wraith ran to her, followed by Tikara.

"Is it true, then?" Wraith asked, her voice low, her golden eyes burning. Shadows pooled around her with each step.

Celandine pressed herself against the rough trunk, wishing she could have the willow's patience and stability. Instead, seeing Wraith made her heart pound. "Is what true?"

"That your touch, the purity of your kindness, has the power to shatter the Countess's spells." Tikara clenched a fist passionately. "To set us free!"

"I don't know," Celandine admitted.

Wraith drew closer. "Touch me and we'll find out."

"Since when do you give orders?" Celandine teased.

Wraith sank to her knees in a single, graceful motion. "Touch me... priestess. Give me the blessing of your violence." There was a mocking smile of incitement on her sharp features. Even kneeling, she looked powerful, a predator poised to leap up and strike. Celandine paced around her in a circle, feeling Tikara's lustful gaze track her every movement. Then she drew back her hand and slapped Wraith across the face.

Wraith cried out. Her body shuddered, and she buried her head in her hands.

"You're all right, sweetling. I'm here," Tikara said at once, skidding to her knees to embrace her. The comforting gesture spoke of long familiarity. But as Wraith's shoulders continued to shake, as she lifted her head to reveal a brutal grin, Celandine realized she was laughing.

"Celandine, do you have any idea how strong you are?" she said, shaking her head. "Magically, I mean. It wasn't luck that you restored that maiden. There's real power within you."

Wind stirred the willow's branches, as if nature itself wished to accent that momentous announcement.

"I guess I do now." Looking down at her hands, Celandine marveled that her fingers had not only brought pleasure to many women, but had now also broken an evil spell.

Wraith leapt to her feet and caught Tikara in a hug, making the knight squeak with surprise. "Do you realize what this means? We can fight back!"

"How?" Celandine asked. She thought of the look of despair that had crossed Larkin's face when she'd realized her cunt had gone completely numb, and Ria's fear at being summoned to the castle. If they could defeat the countess, no one would ever have to endure such terror again.

"To defeat the countess, we must break all her objects of power," Wraith answered. "Tomorrow, the Countess and her chatelaine will ride through the local villages to evaluate who to summon next as Larkin's replacement. They'll be looking for the most beautiful and lustful young women. That should give us some time."


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, after Celandine had seen the Countess off in another impossibly plunging gown, she met Wraith and Tikara in the garden. Compared to the meadows by her house, and even the village gardens, the whole place was bizarrely uniform. There wasn't a single weed. Every blade of grass seemed to be the same length, and the rose bushes were all perfectly square with perfectly red blossoms. In the middle of a small, perfectly round lawn was an unbelievably lifelike statue of a naked woman on a plinth. Her belly even had a few stretch marks etched into the marble.

"Okay. So we have to break this statue?" Celandine asked.

"No," Wraith said at once. "The Countess once asked for my help on many magical matters… she said that she was writing a tale, and wanted to know how the mage protagonist would work certain enchantments. Of course, this was before I knew of her true nature, and happily aided her. One of the matters she asked me about was how the antagonist might turn a human into a decoration, and therefore the situation is as follows: there's a virgin trapped within the stone. To set her free, we need to assist her in becoming, well, not a virgin. That's your job, Celandine. I performed a gazing ritual in my crystal ball last night, and I know that she would be amiable to your advances. Tikara, I'll need to touch you the way Celandine touches the statue, to lend my magic to the curse's undoing."

"I trust you," Tikara replied with a smile. She pulled her tunic over her head, baring her freckles and upturned breasts to the sun.

"I know," Wraith replied, gesturing to the stone bench over which she had spread her black silken cloak. "That's what makes it so fun."

"Not fair," Tikara teased back. "You ought to shed a few layers as well. Come on, Celandine, admit it… aren't you curious about what great mystery is lurking under this greatcoat?"

Wraith ducked her head for an instant, silver curls falling over her sallow face. If she'd been anyone else, Celandine would have sworn she blushed. But instead she said, boldly, "Fine, then," and made a magical gesture; all the buttons undid themselves.

Underneath, she wore a tight black tunic and vermillion drawers trimmed with black lace. She was smaller than Celandine had expected, almost delicate in her pallor. Strange scars covered her bare legs and arms; silver webbing that seemed etched into her skin and deep red runes that twisted in ever-moving circles around her thighs. Among them was the Countess's crest of arms. What did it mean? Did she truly belong to that wicked woman, body and soul? But when she lifted her head proudly and commanded, "Touch the statue, Celandine. Seduce her. Now," Celandine pushed all doubts aside.

Celandine's dark hair fluttered in the wind, the thin material of her white dress hugging her curves as she climbed gracefully onto the plinth. She began to touch the statue, at first with light, lingering strokes of her hands, then more roughly, remembering all the encounters that had filled her with fierce, dominant passion.

Wraith repeated every gesture with an even greater intensity. She slapped Tikara's full breasts and twisted her nipples, making her arch her back and cry out. In the sunlight, Tikara's hair was as bright as the garden's roses, as molten metal. Fascinated, she continued to caress the statue, her fingers trailing up and down.

Wraith smirked. "Getting distracted already, Celandine?"

"No," Celandine lied. She was entranced by the way Wraith so coolly tormented Tikara, seeming unaffected by the sensual sights before her, by the way Tikara gave herself up wholly to sensation and suffering, abandoning herself to passion. Celandine didn't know which role she wanted to take, whose position she wanted to be in, only that she wanted to be part of it. But breaking the enchantment was more important than her desires. She lowered her mouth to the statue's breasts and swirled her tongue around the erect nipple, scraping it gently with her teeth. Hearing Tikara moan, she stroked down the statue's abdomen and began rubbing the marble cunt in slow circles and figure-eights, just enough to tantalize.

Visions seeped into her mind, probably a result of her newly awakened magic. Visions of a young woman who wanted her first time to be exquisite, undertaking the dangerous journey to the Countess's castle and kneeling before her throne.

_"So, you want your first time to be perfect?"_

_"Yes," she had whispered, hardly able to gaze at the noblewoman's beauty._

_A high, taunting laugh. "Foolish maiden. There is no such thing as perfection. But perhaps, for you, I can make an exception. You'll be trapped forever in unceasing perfection, never able to feel real satisfaction or desire!"_

_In an instant, liquid stone had crept up her legs, covering her body. One instant of pleasure, and then the rest was stillness; she could watch and hear, but never feel. For many turns of the moon afterwards, the countess had taken her conquests outside to fuck them in the garden, right beneath the statue's plinth. To tantalize the maiden with what she could never have._

But now, Celandine sensed, the maiden trapped in marble was beginning to feel. And she enjoyed it very much.

"Plunge your fingers inside her," Wraith commanded, her own fingers splayed possessively over Tikara's cunt. "Do it now."

"But she's made of stone. I'll sprain something."

Wraith's eyes flashed golden with power. "Obey me, priestess." Violet light emanated from her fingers, and Tikara shifted, whimpering.

And Celandine slid two fingers not into stone, but into tight, wet heat.

"Harder, please," Tikara begged, her rich alto voice breaking, and Celandine followed this command as well, until Wraith had forced Tikara to erupt in a crescendo of pleasure.

Where the statue had been, there was now a beautiful, naked woman. Her hair was dark brown, her eyes green, and Celandine caught her just before she stumbled off the plinth.

"What… where am I? I'm not too sure what just happened, but I feel incredible. My body is so relaxed!"

"We've… freed you," Tikara managed, rolling from Wraith's hold to stretch out on the cool, dew-covered grass.

"Yes, I remember now. My name is Arcadia. I wanted a sexual awakening, but that isn't what I got. Not until now... You rescued me. I thought the rumors about the countess were false, but now I realize she's even worse than anyone outside these walls suspected!"

"You won't have to worry about her," replied Wraith, shrugging her coat back on. All at once she seemed taller and stronger; there were clearly spells woven into the fabric. "Now that you're freed from her magic, nothing will stop you from leaving. Here—" She took a small drawstring bag from one of her many pockets and tossed it casually over. It clinked when Arcadia caught it. "Is that enough money to get you home?"

"Yes, many times over! Thank you so, so much!" Arcadia replied. "I remember how to leave the castle by the back gate, and I'll do so at once."

"I shall weave an enchantment so that your disappearance is not noticed. Go quickly, and don't bother thanking me. It breaks my concentration."

"Wait," Tikara called. "Wraith, you can't just tell her to run around naked! Here—" She handed Arcadia her discarded tunic. On the shorter woman, it was nearly a dress. "Be careful, all right?"

She nodded and ran off.

Now there were wildflowers springing up, unfolding their petals as Celandine watched; wood sorrel, buttercups, even a dandelion bud. The perfectly red roses and perfectly green grass were no more. A playful breeze even stilled the air.

"Don't worry," Wraith said, her focus still on the empty plinth. "The countess never comes out here. Not when the weather is nice, at any rate…" Her hands moved in magical passes through the air as she murmured words of power. A simulacrum of the statue wavered into life. At last she sat back with a drained sigh. "There. Touch it."

Tikara ran a hand over the stone. "It feels just like marble!"

"Good. The countess has stolen a great deal from me, but I still have my power, at least."

"What's next?" Celandine asked. She wanted to help Wraith to her feet, but knew the mage would be too proud to accept her offer.

Wraith leaned heavily on the plinth, pushing herself up. "Next," she said decidedly, "we should all go inside and eat some lunch. That is, I'm going to take a cold shower, but you two should eat."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "what's your inspiration for this story?"  
> honestly just that i'm a lesbian

"How did you come to be trapped here?" Celandine asked Tikara. The countess's grand dining room seemed too fancy for only the pair of them, so they ate at a low table in the homey kitchen.

"It's stupid, really," she muttered in reply, shoving the last few bites of bread and cheese into her mouth.

Celandine brushed a comforting touch over her warm hand. "Don't call yourself stupid. From everything I know of you, you seem kind and honorable."

She let out a sigh. "The problem with kind and honorable people is that, until we know otherwise, we believe others are inherently good as well. And... I'm not from around here."

When she headed to the sink, Celandine followed. She wanted to tease Tikara, to make her smile. "Really? The six-foot-tall woman with strawberry blonde curls and green eyes, who's living in a country where everyone is small and dark and olive-skinned, isn't from around here?"

"I didn't know about her reputation," Tikara added, rolling up her sleeves to wash the dishes. She had strong, broad forearms with a dusting of light hair that Celandine inexplicably wanted to lick. "I was staying at an inn hoping to help the locals with hunting when I received a letter." As she turned a dish over to scrub away the last residue of food, water ran between her long fingers, droplets clinging to her wrists. Celandine imagined every place she wanted those hands.

"It was from a countess who said that a dark force, a fearsome monster, had drained the life essence from her lovers. She wrote so eloquently in a delicate, flowing script. The letter smelled of lilacs and was sealed with shimmering golden wax. I fell a bit in love with her just from reading her words, and I rode to her aid at once." She passed a dish to Celandine. Their hands touched again. "Want to dry?"

"Sure," Celandine replied, grabbing a towel. She liked how intent and centered Tikara looked when completing each facet of the task.

"I was so intent on meeting her, on committing an act of knightly chivalry, that I didn't notice how the liquid in the moat wasn't water, or the footprints in the grass where frightened women had staggered away barefoot. The crows on the battlements, the heavy clouds gathering...

Tell me, do you know about the vows knights traditionally take?"

"Honor, kindness, chivalry, bravery," Celandine recalled. "Is there one more?"

"Chastity," Tikara replied, a blush tinting her cheeks as she passed over the last dish. "We don't discuss it often, but we're not supposed to have sex outside of marriage. Basically, unless you have a spouse or you're asexual... it can be frustrating. We don't even have enough time to ourselves to masturbate properly. It sort of impairs our judgement a little. And the second I saw her, when she swept down the staircase in the grand foyer, my judgement was impaired even further.

"Her dress was like the dawn, all pinks and pale purple... let's finish this somewhere more comfortable, yeah?"

They ended up in a small sitting room, the heat of Tikara's knees seeping against Celandine's as she spoke.

"I'm so glad you've come,' she told me. 'Come with me to my dungeons, and I'll show you the beast. Tell me, Tikara,' she murmured. 'Do you find me attractive?' I admitted she was a very beautiful woman, and her smile... it should have scared me. Instead it made me wonder about her previous partners and resent my vows. More than anything, even though I felt such shame about my desires, I wanted to break those vows. To break them with her.

'I can tell you want to fuck me,' she murmured. Of course, my jaw dropped. I'd never even heard anyone say 'fuck' before. 'That you want to be fucked… to be wrecked. But if you're not ready to act on those dark desires? Then turn back.'

I didn't even think about it. I ran towards her, following her every step. 

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, chains grabbed me and held me to the wall. I couldn't break the enchanted metal."

Celandine clutched Tikara's strong thigh as she pictured the surprising scene. "That sounds intimidating."

"It was! And then she said, 'There is no huge monster in the dungeons of my castle. Only a monstrously huge orgasm to rip your free will from your soul!' Except I wasn't scared… I was horny. I was attracted to her, and excited. Even though she knew I could never condone her dark deeds, her beauty overwhelmed me. Never before had I seen such a feminine, seductive, voluptuous being, or known that a woman could force me to bend to her will."

"You mustn't blame yourself," Celandine replied at once, nestling against her in a way she hoped was comforting. "She has that effect on people. It's her succubus magic. And her tits do look in those low-cut gowns."

"I know that now. But at the time, my guilt and shame only made my pleasure the greater. I was about to break my vows of chastity, and what was worse, I wanted it so fucking bad—" She broke off, twisting the hem of her tunic as a blush colored her face. "Nine hells, I'm getting so turned on just thinking about it. Can't even tell the story without getting all worked up... I'm sorry, Celandine. I get distracted by my cunt."

"You're vulnerable to magic, aren't you? That's why you're constantly horny whenever you're around the Countess," Celandine said, fascinated by her subtle squirming.

Tikara whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut, and whispered, "As if I've been edged for days, and it's still barely ebbed in her absence. I'm so ashamed of myself."

"Don't be. Let me help you," Celandine murmured, and straddled her lap. She pressed a knee between Tikara's legs, marveling at how she could feel her wetness even through their clothes. She shifted subtly, encouraging Tikara to grind against her. "That's right. Just tell your story, and I'll take care of you."

"She kissed me so deeply I wanted my hands free—not to escape, but to hold her. She said she knew I needed this, and I hated and loved that she was right."

"And then what?" Celandine asked. With the simple tug of a lace, Tikara's huge, creamy breasts were freed. They overflowed Celandine's hands with each caress.

"The Countess kept touching me for what felt like ages. Kissing me all over and stroking my breasts. Every so often I'd tug at the chains just to satisfy my conscience, but I didn't want to escape. I wanted more. Please, Celandine, touch me more. I'm so wet. Finger my cunt... Please."

"Is that how you begged her?" Celandine whispered into her ear.

"Yeah." Her voice trembled.

"You're so pretty when you beg. Anything else you have to say for yourself?"

"I need your hands on me. Telling this story to you untouched is like torture…" She moaned, her head falling back. "Why am I so horny all the time?"

"Shame is a tool that those who have seized power unjustly wield to keep control. Let me satisfy your needs, Tikara. It's one of the duties of a priestess to look after the faithful." Celandine dropped to kneel between her parted legs, unlacing her linen trousers to guide them down her gorgeously toned thighs.

Tikara let out a shaky breath of relief. "Thank you, Celandine. You are a truly beautiful soul."

"What happened next? What did she do to you?" Celandine asked, stroking Tikara's muscles, rubbing her belly, but never venturing where she knew touch was needed most.

"I'd never had another person's fingers inside me before. She kept telling me how wet I was, caressing this spot that made me burst with pleasure. Celandine..."

"What is it?"

There was a serious look in her blue eyes. "I want you to touch me the way she did. I want you inside me, controlling my body."

That helpless begging was just what Celandine had been waiting for. Only a scrap of white fabric covered Tikara's soaked mound now, and it was easily pushed to the side. "Like this?"

"Yes. Fuck, I love the way your fingers feel inside me. I love getting fucked, and I loved it when the Countess fucked me that first time. But just as I knew I was about to come, she pulled away. Left me hanging against the wall, my hips thrusting into only air. She spoke strange words of power, then told me about the spell she'd cast. From now on, the desperation and horniness I felt would be my baseline level of arousal. Orgasms would satisfy me, but only for a short time."

Rubbing her clit slowly, Celandine wondered whether to let her come.

That was when she heard footsteps.

"Hello, you two," said a freshly bathed Wraith. Droplets of water still clung to her collarbones, and her wet hair was neatly braided. "I see you decided to play in my absence."

"Yes. Celandine is so pretty, isn't she?" Tikara gestured downwards. "Look at how great these tits are. Magnificent tits. Harvesting some lovely nipples in my titty field."

"Good," Wraith said without cracking even the smallest hint of a smile. "Thank you, priestess. The more orgasms you give her, the later I'll be able to sleep tomorrow morning. I hope you didn't let her come?"

"I was thinking about it. Probably not," Celandine said idly, wiping her shining fingers on the knight's discarded pants.

Tikara groaned. "You are incredibly mean. Isn't that sacrilege?"

"Nope," Celandine said, patting her hair. "Suffering in pursuit of a worthy cause is an achievement as well. Now let's hear what Wraith's plan is."

Wraith settled on a nearby armchair, lounging insouciantly, and took out a rectangular box from under her coat. "Right. This… phallic object… is another one of the Countess's objects of power," she said. Inside was a beautiful curved dildo with swirling ridges. It was made of multicolored glass that shimmered like a butterfly's wings.

"Hello, yes please and thank you," Tikara said, reaching out.

But Wraith pulled the box away. "Don't touch it, Tikara. It attaches itself to a user's body—why do you think I'm wearing gloves?"

The supple black leather of those gloves was decorated with silver runes. Celandine wondered how the material would feel on her skin, on her clit.

"This cock was made with the spirit of a monster—and once it's on, you'll be overwhelmed by its beastly essence. Incapable of critical thinking, of anything but lust."

"I believe my prayers will protect us both from any permanent corruption."

"It's not permanent, priestess. But while she has it on, let me know if she hurts you, and I'll force her to stop."

Celandine nodded, although she thought Wraith was underestimating how much she loved pain.

Wraith turned her attention to Tikara. "And you can't come until I tell you to, otherwise I'll have to start all over with the entire spell… and that's time we may not have."

"I'll do my best," Tikara swore.

"I know you will." Their slow kiss spoke of long, comforting familiarity, yet the desire simmering underneath their caresses made Celandine want. "I trust you both."

Even though she missed her own little cottage in the field of wildflowers, her own books, her own food, she was so glad to have met these brave, sexy women, and so glad they both wanted her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's magic strap-on time!!

Tikara stood with her legs apart, and Wraith carefully held the shaft against her clit. Glitter-like sparks fell from the base as it glowed briefly. So did Tikara's eyes. Wraith took her hand away, and the cock started to swell even further, the ridges visibly pulsing.

Wraith smirked. "Have at it, then."

Tikara was on top of Celandine at once. Her powerful body pressed Celandine to the ground, and she scented her all over, rubbing against her, ripping off her clothes. Celandine couldn't fight back, even if she'd wanted to.

Was she truly ready for such a big cock? No. She gasped at the stretch, and wrapped her legs around Tikara's hips to urge her deeper as she thrusted furiously.

Wraith knelt beside them. Her gloved touch was almost delicate as she stroked Celandine's face, the exposed column of her throat. Like she was feeling for a pulse or deciding where to stab. "How do you feel, priestess? Will you pray for me? Speak some holy words from those honeyed pink lips?" There was a teasing glint in her golden eyes.

Did she know the effect she had—did she want Celandine to fail?

Fuck. She was so pretty; androgynously delicate, sharp as a wolf.

"It's big. So many bumps and ridges, driving me wild." Needy heat prickled across her cunt. It took so much effort to hold back her orgasm against the ever-growing onslaught of pleasure.

"Splendid, Celandine." A strange expression flashed across Wraith's face: entranced, yet unreadable. "Tell me when you're close. Kiss her, beast," she ordered with a smack to Tikara's head.

Tikara devoured her mouth with overwhelming passion, roughly fondling her breasts. It hurt, and Celandine wanted more. Then Wraith pulled her back by her hair. Her eyes were glowing with devious desire. "Priestess? Are you enjoying getting fucked?"

"Yes," Celandine whimpered. Tikara released her nipples. The ache only deepened.

"Then show me how grateful you are. Pray to your goddess." Knife-sharp spite permeated her cool, cultured voice. "Beg me not to let you come when you need it badly enough, and maybe I'll listen."

"Dear Goddess," Celandine began, her voice trembling. "Thank you for creating our bodies in your image, creating us with the capacity to experience pleasure—oh, please, Wraith, I'm close-"

In an instant, Wraith was on them, wrenching Tikara away.

The monster cock, wet with her arousal, slid out from her needy cunt, and she groaned at its loss. She was trembling, agonized, at the precipice of orgasm. The slightest caress would set her off at once.

Tikara growled and tried to claw free of Wraith's hold. Her eyes were an inhuman green, the same bold color as the jutting shaft between her legs. But even though her muscles strained, Wraith held her still. She whispered a spell. Ropes made of pure shadow snaked around Tikara, pinning her to the ground.

"See, you're just a big strong body, but I'm the brain. And I can outwit you any day. Now you're going to watch her come while you sit here, tied up, unable to even touch yourself."

Tikara snarled and thrashed, the cock attached to her clit dripping pearlescent fluid onto her swollen labia, but to no avail.

"Go on, Celandine. Come for me," Wraith told her, almost casually.

Celandine liked taking orders as much as giving them- loved how Wraith wore command as casually as her rune-embroidered coat. It didn't take much for her to tip over the edge.

Meanwhile, Wraith knelt beside Tikara and ran one finger up and down her swollen, throbbing bright green shaft. "I bet you can't even think right now with how badly you want me to stroke you off. You need that friction, don't you? Too bad. This is the only way I can break the spell… making you spurt when I'm barely touching you. You see, I could lick you all over, but I won't. This is all you're getting. Just one finger on your most sensitive spot-"

Tikara roared as sparks shot out from the enchanted dildo's tip, covering her upper thighs. The green color faded, leaving stone that rapidly crumbled, and Tikara's eyes returned to their normal shade.

"Is it just me," she said, lifting her head and looking at how she was bound to the mahogany floor in a spread-eagled position, "or did I just have one hell of an orgasm?"

Wraith actually smiled. Not a superior smirk or a bitter, knife-sharp turn of her lips, but a sweet, genuine smile. It made Celandine want to press soft kisses against that smile, to stroke every one of her enchanted tattoos.

That was when Celandine heard hoofbeats outside. She clapped her hands over her mouth to avoid blaspheming the goddess, even though she really wanted to swear.

Tikara looked around, panicked. "The Countess is back! What do we do?"

Wraith began buttoning her coat. "Right. Both of you, get down to her throne room. She likes people kneeling at her feet when she returns."

A few minutes later, Tikara was kneeling on one side of the throne, Celandine standing at attention nearby, and they were both shooting nervous looks at each other, trying their hardest not to panic. Wraith ran in through a side passageway, her long coat flying, and skidded to her knees an instant before the main double doors opened.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i haven't updated for a while so i figured i'd post a long chapter!

The countess strode through the room, elegant and serene as always. Celandine held her breath. Wraith was motionless, a perfect statue. Tikara trembled, her nipples visible through her light-colored shirt. Then the countess eased into her throne, crossing her legs, and laughed, a low curl of menacing sound. "Dear Wraith. You mustn't think you need to hide things from me. And you mustn't think you can keep secrets." She tipped Wraith's chin upwards and tapped her on the nose.

Wraith frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about," she attempted.

"And you, my pretty, pretty Tikara. What's the most I've ever edged you? Ten days? What were you by the end of that?" A smile played around her lacquered lips.

"A cunt with a brain attached as an afterthought," Tikara replied at once.

With a casual nod, the Countess ran long fingers through her wheat-blonde hair. "Would you like me to edge you for a month?"

"Yes," And then, seeing the dark look Wraith shot her: "I don't know. Am I in trouble?"

"Maybe. But you want to be a good girl, don't you?"

"Of course," Tikara replied at once, crossing her arms over her ample chest as if insulted that her mistress would ever think otherwise.

That was when the Countess turned to Celandine, and suddenly she was caught in the full force of that gem-bright, unflinching gaze. Trapped like a deer that had just been spotted by the hunter. Trapped like a heretic during an inquisition. And already, unbearably, turned on.

"Celandine, pretty Celandine. Wouldn't you like to test your strength against mine? You came here because you believed you were just as dominant as I am." She crooked a single finger. "Come here, sweet innocent girl of mine."

It was a terrible idea. She shouldn't. She really, really shouldn't. It would be sensible to run to her room, where she wouldn't be tempted to spill any important secrets.

But terrible ideas got Celandine soaked. And, like she'd told Tikara earlier, the Countess was impossible to resist. Because you couldn't remember why you wanted to. Celandine moved closer, driven to imbibe her beauty.

She ran a hand along the neckline of the Countess's dress, trailing over her ample cleavage, and sensed her breathing quicken in response. "What do you have in mind?" Celandine managed to say.

"Fight me... priestess. Wrestle me. Battle me sexually. And we'll see how long we can hold out against each other's feminine charms."

A sharp breath from Wraith; the Countess grinned down at her.

"You like calling her that, don't you? You think she's yours? No. All of you are only mine."

She rose gracefully and circled Celandine, a beautiful predator; the gown retreated from her body with every step, fabric pouring upwards over her skin until it was just a necklace two inches wide. With a gesture, Celandine's dress came apart and re-formed on a nearby hanger.

"I'm not afraid of you," Celandine said, her heart pounding.

"Good. I hope you're not afraid to lose, either."

With that, she pounced. She was leanly muscled and a vicious hair-puller. Her magic attacked Celandine like a swarm of hornets, a constant stinging; even though she wanted to just experience the pain, she had to keep fighting, trying to get on top. The countess sent a blast of magic towards her crotch; it sank into her folds like oil. All of a sudden she'd gone from merely aroused to throbbing and clenching with desperate need. As they grappled, each looking for an opening, she shot a glance towards her new friends, hoping for encouragement.

Except they were just as caught up in the spell as she was.

Tikara had a hand down her trousers and was rubbing herself furiously, eyes glazed as if she didn't even know she was doing it, though the Countess would surely still punish her later for breaking the rules.

And Wraith... although still fully clothed and motionless, she looked agonized with arousal. She was gripping her thigh as if she wanted nothing more than to echo Tikara's actions, as if not being penetrated took immeasurable effort. The concept of all that control getting utterly wrecked flashed through Celandine's mind, and in the struggle, she faltered. The Countess had her flat on her back, pinned to the floor. She made a gesture; teasing, tickling vibrations passed over Celandine's sensitive mound. Celandine bit her lip as the countess ground her own wet cunt against Celandine's stomach, making contented little hums of pleasure.

"This feels so good, Celandine," she murmured, reaching down to gently massage her breasts. Her body felt unbearably swollen and sore. She was no closer to orgasm, and the vibrations didn't change no matter how much she squirmed. "I'm so close... it feels so good to rub my clit against your soft belly. Wouldn't you like to feel good, too?"

With the slightest movement of her long fingers, the vibrations increased to an almost painful intensity. As she thrashed against the buzzing, sharp pleasure pressed directly against her clit. She heard Tikara's moans of pleasure, felt sure she would follow—and then all stimulation was yanked away, leaving her helpless and quivering.

"Celandine, pretty girl..." The Countess's voice broke into soft, musical cries of pleasure, and Celandine's cunt tensed around nothing. "Wouldn't it feel so good to have my power inside you? All you have to do is share your secrets."

"Your magic isn't strong enough to break me," Celandine gasped. Except, hearing Tikara's cries fade into contented little noises, thinking about how she'd been the one to caress her there only earlier that day, she was getting closer to breaking every second. Closer to revealing their secrets and dooming their plan.

"True," the Countess said, her tone unhurried, calculating. Her slick fingers vanished into her own cunt over and over. "Wraith, lend me your power."

Slowly, Wraith shook her head. "I don't want to betray her. If she was foolish enough to disobey you, it's none of my business." Although outwardly unaffected, she looked rumpled. Silver strands had tumbled loose from their braided updo, and the tentacles of shadow swarmed around her, seeking something to fuck.

Violet light poured from the Countess, and she made a graceful gesture, her fingers flickering. Suddenly the tentacles turned on Wraith. They crawled over her thighs, circling her breasts, dove under the neckline of her high-collared shirt, stroking her neck. She almost vanished beneath the writhing darkness, but Celandine could still hear the desperate little whimpers that fell from her mouth.

"Will you give me your magic now? Let me take from you and give nothing back."

"Anything you want. Just—please, it's too much," Wraith sobbed. She flung out a hand, a graceless gesture; the Countess plucked nothingness from the air, and instantly it became a ball of violet light in her hand.

Where the light touched Celandine's body, unbearable arousal followed, as if there was a second heartbeat in her cunt. Her breasts had never felt so sensitive, her skin so tight. Maybe the Countess was straddling her, but she knew it was Wraith's magic penetrating her, Wraith's shadows moving over her breasts. She needed to come. _Now_.

"Celandine," the Countess purred, "were you attempting to break my spells?"

Celandine tried to hold out against the buzz of sheer pleasure. Instead she heard herself say "Yes."

The Countess smiled.


	12. Chapter 12

The Countess gestured at Celandine, and Celandine looked down to watch in fascination as a bubble of sparkling red energy emerged from her own torso. It felt like someone had smoothed ice across her cunt and breasts; she had experienced no relief, yet her arousal was bizarrely gone.

"I'm disappointed in all of you," the Countess said as her dress once again blossomed to cover her body. "Tikara, you could have helped your lover. Instead you were distracted by your cunt and your horniness, as usual."

An ashamed blush seemed to spread over the knight's creamy skin; she hunched in on herself, turning away.

"And you, my mage, my Wraith." She pulled Wraith up by her hair and kissed her, hard. Wraith leaned into the kiss, pliant and submissive and needy, and slumped to the ground when the Countess shoved her away. "You haven't learned. It's been nine years in my service and all your little tricks that you think are oh-so-clever are exactly the same."

"Are you going to kill me?" Even shame-soaked and utterly naked, Celandine sought to stand tall and proud.

"No, I need a servant. Instead, I'm putting you in the dungeon until you learn the error of your ways."

When she snapped her fingers, the chatelaine came in and frog-marched Celandine away. "I'm sorry," Tikara mouthed, catching her gaze. Wraith was hunched in on herself and wouldn't even look up.

Apparently, the Countess had multiple dungeons. Instead of the kinky sex dungeon Celandine had glimpsed previously, she was taken to a second dungeon, a miserable stone room with nothing in it to occupy her. The Countess was so angry at Celandine, she didn't even want to have hatesex. So Celandine was left alone with the slow drip-drip of water from the ceiling and the chilly stone. The only thing to eat was some stale bread and cheese that almost broke her teeth when she tried it.

She'd thought to save Ria from being entrapped in the Countess's seductive web by having adventurous encounters with a dangerous woman in her place. But there was nothing attractive about this degrading, miserable fate.

Would she ever make it back to her dear friend and her beautiful cottage in the meadow of wildflowers? And what about Wraith and Tikara? Was she foolish to hope that, even now, they were worried about her fate?

Then the trapdoor opened. She tensed, ready for the Countess's disappointment. Instead, Wraith descended, falling as lightly as a feather. She landed and knelt.

"I'm sorry, Celandine," she murmured, her head bowed. Celandine knew the clammy puddles of dirty water on the floor must be seeping into her fine clothes. Yet Wraith didn't seem to care.

The trapdoor opened again. _Thump!_ Tikara crashed to the floor. "I'm sorry too," she said, rubbing her bruised thigh as she arranged herself into a kneeling position. "We both failed you. After you tried to help us, you deserved better."

They were here. Even though it was chilly and smelled moldy and it had probably been dangerous for them to come here, they were here for her. They cared about her. And that one truth restored all of Celandine's lost hope.

"I'm not angry at either of you. Maybe I'm supposed to be, but I won't let her win. The only way we can win is if we stand together. We can't let her divide us." Reaching through the bars, she offered them her hands, and the smiles on their faces seemed to light up the dark cell. Tikara pulled herself up and kissed Celandine's hand, chivalrous as ever. Wraith leaned heavily on Celandine's arm and flashed a grateful smile as she made it to her feet. 

Tikara grabbed the bars, and her muscles strained. Slowly, the bars curved apart, leaving room for Celandine to wiggle through. "Come on, let's go to the sex dungeon. It's more comfortable, and the roof doesn't leak."

It was indeed larger, warmer, and altogether more comfortable, although decorated in garish violet. Chains, floggers, and ropes of all colors hung on wall-mounted racks. Celandine settled down on the piece of furniture that looked least likely to be a sex machine—a healer's table with shiny metal stirrups.

"So… what's the last seal of the Countess's magical strength? How do we break her power once and for all?"

Wraith pulled her cloak tighter around her body, her features drawn and harsh in the torchlight. "The last of her enchanted objects," she answered slowly, "is my cunt."

"Wait, what?" Celandine asked.

Tikara's mouth dropped open. "Is that why you never let me touch you? Is there, like, some sort of curse on your clit?"

Wraith silenced them both with an imperious gesture. "Both of you must know that I am no innocent. I am not like you, who came here to protect a friend and have sexual adventures, or you, who succumbed to her charms unaware." She gestured to Celandine and Tikara in turn. "When we were students together at the Royal Academy of Magic... the Countess and I were lovers. She admired my skill with dark magics, encouraged me when my professors recoiled from where my natural talents lay. That which seems evil can be used to fight true evil, she would tell me as she stroked my skin. The darkness as well as the light has a place in the planet's rotation.

I unlocked the magical seals on her body... I released her succubus powers. All the suffering she's caused has been on my hands, and she loves to torment me with how I've been complicit in her atrocities. Yet despite all that, I could leave at any moment—on some level, I still care for the idealistic young woman she once was, and I can't deny that I care for the impossible beauty she holds within her now." She shot a look at Celandine, who had opened her mouth to speak. "Don't you _dare_ try to soothe me with words of kindness or prayer."

"You are no monster. You are a prisoner of your lust, the same as us," Tikara said at once, indignant. "We both chose to come here."

"The Goddess forgives us our trespasses, and asks us to forgive each other. As one who walks in her footsteps, I believe it's important to forgive not only others, but ourselves. In that way, we truly honor our own divinity," Celandine added.

"Don't quote theology at me," Wraith said, but she was smiling.

"I wasn't going to until you suggested I shouldn't," Celandine said. "Wraith, I promise you don't need the Countess. You can have everything you've ever dreamed of, away from this foul place."

Suspicion flickered in Wraith's golden eyes, as if she didn't want to hope. "What do you think I've dreamed of?"

"Us," Tikara said at once. "Our love."

Celandine had always assumed Wraith's cool, distant air was one of detachment. As if she was too sure of herself to care for anything.

So Celandine did the only thing she could think of; she threw herself at Wraith's feet.

 _Love me_ , Celandine thought. _Love me—and let me love you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays, have some lesbian pornography!!


	13. Chapter 13

When Wraith stared down at Celandine, the shadows blazed violet. "Get up," she said, scowling.

"Why?" Celandine shot back. Hot excitement flared up in her. Wraith was no longer cool or detached, there was no sardonic amusement in her tone.

"Because…" Wraith scowled and ran her hands through her long, now loose, silver waves. Then darkness flared around her. She yanked Celandine to her feet and kissed her, hard.

It was a bruising, unrelenting kiss of all Wraith's pent-up fury and desire. Celandine took it all, desperate for more.

Finally, Wraith pulled back. "Now you know what it's like to be touched by a creature of shadow." Her voice was as sarcastic as usual, but tears glittered in her eyes.

Celandine grabbed her. She wasn't going to let her go so easily. "Maybe you are a monster. A vile creature of darkness, a snake in the shadows. But you are mine."

"You're _ours_ ," Tikara added, unbuttoning her tunic and letting it fall. "You make me smile. You make me feel loved and wanted, and you make my cunt so gods-damned wet." She grabbed her breasts, massaging them and making them jiggle, and grinned when Wraith gasped. "C'mon, you don't have to just look. Touch me. How do I feel, sweetling?"

Slowly, Wraith moved closer to her, reached out a hand to touch one of her breasts, and Tikara pulled her closer. "Warm. soft. Warm and wet... your skin feels so wonderful against mine." Wraith usually sounded so unaffected, but as she nuzzled against Tikara's muscular torso, her voice was breathy, her eyes unfocused.

Tikara nodded, stroking her hair. "During those long hours in the dungeon when I wept for release, you came to me. You made me come."

Wraith bit her lip, rolling off Tikara's lap. "It was the least I could do for one of her victims. To show mercy."

"Then this is the least you can do for yourself," Tikara replied. "Let us love you, Wraith."

She looked up- straight into Celandine's eyes, lips parting in awed surprise as their gazes met.

Wraith was so full of contradictions. Delicate and beautiful, yet powerful and majestic. Celandine marveled at her golden eyes, how they seemed as sweet as honey. She brushed the silver hair from Wraith's forehead and stroked the high cheekbones she'd spent forever wanting to touch, and Wraith responded to that fragment of contact with helpless adoration, rubbing catlike against Celandine's fingers. "Yes," fell from her open mouth.

"You're going to have to let me be kind to you, warlock. You'll have to submit to every place I want to be gentle with you, every moment my hands can show you how beautiful your body is," Celandine said with quiet intensity as she covered Wraith.

"Take it, sweetling. Take her love," encouraged Tikara, unlacing her shirt to let the fullness of her breasts spring free.

Wraith gasped. She was trembling, biting her lower lip until it swelled with blood. "Stop being so kind to me. I can't... sometimes I lose control of the darkness when I'm this aroused. The Countess always said my tentacles were disgusting…" Against Celandine, her toned body was all muscle and heat.

"Show me your shadows," Celandine urged, tugging her dress over her head. She tossed back her long, dark curls, loving how silky they always felt against her skin. "I want every wicked thing you have to give, and I want it now."

Then Wraith unleashed her full power, and the torches guttered as magical tendrils streamed out from her. Her eyes glowed golden with confidence and strength.

A tendril reached towards Celandine, and touched against her clit, circling like a tongue. More twisted her nipples until she gasped at the glorious sparks of pain. Then, one by one, the thinnest tentacles entered her.

Celandine imagined she could feel not just her body, but the field of energy that extended past it. Wraith's tendrils of power writhing within her aura, holding her fast. "Yes," Celandine gasped, trembling. Her cunt felt so full, but she knew she could take even more.

The intrusion was so great her inner walls could no longer tighten around it. Then the tentacles began to move—

"Quiet, we can't get caught," Tikara said, low and urgent, and slapped her hand over Celandine's mouth.

And the overwhelming loss of control pushed her over the edge.


End file.
